


we're the kids who feel like dead ends

by casualmarches



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Canonical Character Death, M/M, Mental Instability, POV Second Person, a lot of this is up for interpretation, and all of it is sad, klaus hargreeves deserves a hug and by god i will give it to him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-05-31 16:31:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19429807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casualmarches/pseuds/casualmarches
Summary: You have so many memories. The thrum of music vibrating through your body, the wall pressed against your back, the vodka burning your throat. You have so many memories that they’re spilling out of you, spreading everywhere like blood, the blood that drenched your clothes and your skin.You have so many dreams. The house in the fields, the crackling of a fireplace. The music drifting from the radio, your hands around his waist. You have so many dreams that you can’t remember what happened and what didn’t, whether or not the world crashed down around you after you lost yours.You are very tired.





	we're the kids who feel like dead ends

You are very tired.

You stand at the kitchen sink, hands on both sides of the cold metal. Your eyes threaten to close, but you keep them open, mostly because you don’t think it would look good to your siblings if you fell asleep here. You’re supposed to be getting better, after all.

Aren’t you?

Everything is.. dull, in a way. It’s been raining all afternoon, and the glow of the gray clouds coming in through the windows makes everything look just a little unreal.

Have you drank? You’re not sure. Ben has kept you in check ever since you’ve been sober, making sure you stay on track, but he’s not here, which means anything could have happened.

Where is Ben, anyway?

All these questions are confusing you, so you shake them away. You step back from the sink and glance from side to side, not really taking in your surroundings. Your hands involuntarily reach up and grasp at the dog tags around your neck.

_“MEDIC!”_

You jump violently, falling over yourself in your haste to get away. That - that sounded so _real,_ it was right next to your ear, where did that come from?

_“No, no, no no no - ” Guns firing, bombs exploding, screams -_

Not real, not real, not _real_ -

_“Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay - ” Blood, so much blood, choked words, medic, you need the medic -_

You stumble backwards. You’re not sure why your heart is pounding so hard, why your chest is tight tight _tight,_ but either way it’s getting really fucking hard to breathe. You hit a chair with your foot, and before you even realize you’re sprawling to the ground, landing hard on your side.

Pain shoots up the arm that tried to catch your fall, and you groan. Things spin and white noise builds in your ears. You close your eyes, trying not to throw up. The side of your face is pressed against the cool tiles, and.. it doesn’t feel like dirt.

Why would it feel like dirt?

After a few seconds - or minutes, or hours, or days, you don’t know - you manage to open your eyes again. Everything is still blurry, lights making kaleidoscopes in your vision. You can make out the leg of the chair you ran into, the black lines of the white tiles, though something is there.

What?

Your head throbs. You try to focus, but it’s hard. It’s something green, with dark specks like mud on them. Com.. combat boots?

“D..Dave?” Your voice is so small.

“Klaus,” someone says right above you, and it sounds so much like _him,_ the way he always said it, but it can’t -

“Klaus,” they say again, and you lift your head up. You lift your head up despite it feeling like a million pounds, because you know it’s Allison, or Diego, or even fucking Luther. Dave is gone, Dave hasn’t come, he’s not -

“Dave?”

He’s smiling at you, so kindly that any other words you were going to say get caught in your throat. You’re thrown back to when you saw him for the first time, how he squinted at you in confusion, one arm holding himself up.

You scramble to your feet, and when you throw yourself at him, you almost expect to go through, to hit nothing but air, cold, cold air -

But you don’t.

“Dave,” you choke out, like a prayer. “I - where - I missed - you, you said you wouldn’t leave, Dave, you promised - ”

“I’m sorry,” Dave whispers, bringing you close. His arms are so warm, so comforting, and you let yourself melt into them. “I’m sorry, love. I’m here now, okay?”

You smile. You smile because this is Dave, and Dave always knows how to make you smile. He did when you first properly met and he offered you his name, shaking your hand and looking at you like you were the most important thing in the world. Like you were the only one he ever wanted to look at.

You move your head back from where it was burrowed in his chest. You stare up at him, stare up at his soft eyes, blue and sparking and _alive._ The curve of his eyebrows, the groove of his lips. Every detail you swore to remember, had gone over time over time in your mind, because you never wanted to forget them.

“I can’t.. I can’t believe you’re here,” you say, voice cracking, and tears blur your view. “I - I tried so hard, Dave, you didn’t come - ” And you’re crying for real now, sobs wracking your entire frame. You’re crying and it’s ugly and messy and loud but you can’t stop, can’t make yourself calm down. It feels like you’re breaking, shattering, being ripped apart from the inside out. You should be happy but instead you’re crying, sinking weakly to the ground, cradling your head in your hands.

Someone is murmuring words to you, carding a hand through your curls, but it feels so faint, so vague. It feels like a memory.

You have so many memories. The thrum of music vibrating through your body, the wall pressed against your back, the vodka burning your throat. You have so many memories that they’re spilling out of you, spreading everywhere like blood, the blood that drenched your clothes and your skin.

You have so many dreams. The house in the fields, the crackling of a fireplace. The music drifting from the radio, your hands around his waist. You have so many dreams that you can’t remember what happened and what didn’t, whether or not the world crashed down around you after you lost yours.

A breeze makes you shiver, and you suddenly become aware of how quiet it is, how the fingers messing with your hair are gone.

“Dave?” Your voice is hoarse, and you stand up so fast you almost black out. You turn around, staring at the empty room that’s so, so cold. He was - he was just here, you know it, where did he go?

You start to say his name again, but it falters before it can leave your lips. The lips that tingle with broken promises.

Outside, the rain falls.

**Author's Note:**

> some songs i listened to while writing this were ghost of you by 5sos, somebody you loved by lewis capaldi, and the night we met by lord huron. in case you wanted to cry even more


End file.
